


One Last Blessing For The Road

by ShadowKnight



Category: The Sexy Brutale (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Fix-It, Fluff, Gen, Happy Ending, Plot, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-14
Updated: 2017-07-14
Packaged: 2018-12-02 00:18:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,173
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11497821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShadowKnight/pseuds/ShadowKnight
Summary: In the end, it was Lafcadio who saved them; alone, unmasked and unseen.If sinners deserve a second chance, why shouldn't innocents?





	One Last Blessing For The Road

In a decadent place that is actually nowhere at all, a bright, sunny noon feels cold and unwelcoming. Two figures sit by the fire of the chapel's quiet little withdrawing room as death and mayhem unfold beneath them. He thumbs the bible in his aged, calloused hands. She is tired. So, so tired.

"Every day, I sit here before your time comes," she begins softly, staring at the roaring fire. "And every day you ask me the same thing."

"Ellie," he pleads quietly, placing a hand over hers. She is sticky with fresh blood, but he doesn't feel it.

"Everyone else forgets, but not me. Even you, Lafcadio. Every day you come to me with your plan and I say no. And then I watch you die," she turns to him and the hope in his eyes fails to stir anything but despondence in her. "It's peaceful, you know. He cannot bring himself to make it too gruesome. Your heart gives out and you pass away here, alone, before you can even hear Reggie's gunshot in the other room."

"Ellie," he begs, and his eyes are so old and so full of pity.

"It's not just you, Lafcadio!" she finally snaps. She takes a deep breath, her eyes watering with rage and grief. "You're asking me to kill him! After all he's been through!"

"How long has it been?" he asks her softly.

"Forty years, tomorrow," she replies hollowly. He says nothing, lets her feel the impact of her words. Forty years. Practically a lifetime.

Tears start running down her cheeks. She was never going to have the life she wanted with him. He would never be a father, or a husband again, even if Boone's plan worked. She sobbed bitterly. It was never in the cards.

Lafcadio puts an old, weathered hand on her shoulder. "He deserves to rest."

Eleanor nods through the tears, then lifts her chin defiantly. "Fine." She speaks the word and it feels like a gunshot. For a moment, she thinks something has changed and Lafcadio actually survived until Reggie's death. But no. It was simply the finality in the air. "I do not believe your plan will work, Lafcadio Boone. No matter what he does in here, time has moved on outside. I don't care what occult trickery you have, you cannot change the past." She speaks firmly now. No more tears.

The priest smiles mischievously at her. "How do you know this is the past?"

She blinks, confused. "He... he grows old, Lafcadio. Time goes on out there..."

He shakes his head. "But not in here. In this hellscape, we are frozen in that fateful day. He thinks we're memories, but our souls linger. The occult energies in this house linger. The ghosts, the demons, there are so many pieces of reality in this mansion. It's only a matter of bringing the in here to out there," he winks complicitly.

"But how...?" she begins, and then sees the old man doubling over in pain, hand clutching his chest. "Oh no..." she mutters, sorrow and disappointment dawning on her face.

"Take... my mask..." he mutters through clenched teeth. "You know... what to do."

Eleanor stares at him for a long moment as his body seizes and then begins to fail him. He looks at her pleadingly. "Yes," she finally promises. He attempts a weak smile before he slumps over in his chair. Before the mask begins to burn, she takes it off with a delicate touch. She walks up to one of the doors and, as she's turning the knob, looks back at Boone. He looks so small and fragile. She looks back at the plain mask in her hands. He will need her help.

When she closes the door behind her, she's on the clock tower. She never comes here. She can't bear to look at him like this. But she has to. He turns to regard her with confusion. "Ellie?" he asks, hesitant. She lifts the mask. With one swift push, she presses the mask against his, which creates a shimmer in the air, a ripple, and then there are two men before her. One wearing her husband's mask. The other, wearing Boone's. "What...?" both men utter simultaneously, in confusion. Eleanor grabs the new Boone by the hand and drags him towards the door. She's back at the chapel's withdrawing room, the body of the priest nowhere to be seen. She leaves the room, leaving behind a woozy, confused Boone. She needs only one last thing.

She's in the gardens, eyes closed, waiting. The sound of broken glass, then a horrible, bone-wrenching thud. She looks at the flower bed and sees her husband's broken body amidst the flowers. She spares a moment to caress his hair. "I love you," she tells him, and she knows he can hear her. "Please remember that." She fishes his pocket watch from his pocket. It's broken, but she knows who can fix it.

Time unwinds and it's noon again and she's back at the chapel. This time, Boone is lying on the floor instead of the armchair and she knows it's not really Boone at all. "Time to move on, old man." She says bitterly. It takes a good deal of strength not to give the whole thing away. She presses her bloodied hand on his mask and passes on a great deal of her power to him. She wishes she could give him the ability to come and go through the mansion as he pleases, but that's not really a power that resides within her. Rather, it is the mansion that holds no power over her.

As the false Lafcadio Boone embarks on a journey of discovery and, hopefully, forgiveness, the real Lafcadio Boone exists in a state between realms. Without his mask, he is a Stranger in the Sexy Brutale. And without an identity of his own, he's not bound by the mansion's rules. Lucas doesn't even know he exists; he's an echo of a ghost. And in that state, the true nature of the mansion and its inner workings becomes clear to him. The forty years of death and misery come crashing down and their weight is so overpowering he almost loses the focus that binds him to the mansion. Lafcadio recovers slowly, piecing together the sheer depth of Lucas's guilt. But most importantly, picking out the occult secrets of the mansion. Grinmaw. Old Habits. The Red King. All under his control. Except for one. Not in the depths of the basement or hidden away in secret places. But at the top, the very top of the mansion, right above the clock tower. The only statue not made by Trinity Carrington.

The Soaring Angel.

And within it, an old spirit.

"Kindly one," Lafcadio pleads, staring at the statue's flawless marble, the spread wings and the joyful, genderless face. "I need your help." Silence. "I know you've been left here, abandoned, for forty years, but I know you're trapped in here along with the rest of us and I know you value justice. Please. They were innocent. Their deaths were unjust."

There is a rustle of stone on stone as the statue's face turns to gaze upon Lafcadio. "Priest," it speaks with a melodic voice. "I cannot do this alone. Imposing one reality over another is a monumental feat. It requires more than power and sacrifice. It requires a connection between both worlds."

"Lucas."

"Then he must be your catalyst." The statue's head returns to gaze upon the horizon. "Mark those you wish to save, make the changes you would make, then find the moment of truth. Find the moment that would connect both realities. Then the Red King and I will do the rest."

"Thank you, kindly one," Lafcadio whispers, followed by the sign of the cross.

Boone returns to the chapel. He know what to do.

A blank in the rifle. The CCTV camera. Water over the candle. Locking a door. Turning the power off. Correcting the statues. Knocking on the door of a cabin.

"Yes?" Eleanor's sweet voice comes from inside.

"It is time, dear," Boone whispers. "You must come out. You cannot stay in there any longer."

A long, painful silence. Then footsteps. An open door. She nods and steps into the light.

Picking up Aurum's wirecutter. Six chimneys. Six explosives to disable. Then, the garden. The moment of truth.

An explosion. Fire in the clock tower. Shattering glass. A horrible, bone-wrenching thud. "Now," Boone states aloud. The rustle of stone on stone. The cracking of glass. In the depths of the basement and the heights of the clock tower, the two entities take hold of that metaphysical thread, that moment where life and death were intermingled, and push one reality onto the other. In another place, in another time, the false Lafcadio chooses not to rewind the day. He chooses to forgive himself and is therefore no longer Lafcadio Boone. The true Lafcadio regains his identity, his mask forming over his face like a prison. The garden fades and the walls of the chapel rise around him. He hears Sixpence running nearby. Only this time, there will be no masked man trying to kill him.

Boone sits on his armchair and stares at the disabled explosive in the fireplace. He knows what is coming. He hasn't saved himself. But his mask... his mask still has a bloody handprint. It still has the powers that the false Lafcadio gathered before. "Let me stay," he pleads. "For a little while." The heart attack comes and he doesn't hear the explosion, the shattering glass, the body falling on the gardens below. The Sexy Brutale does not burn, not entirely. The clock tower and most of Lucas's study goes up in flames, but the fire is put out before it can spread to the rest of the mansion. They find two men dead afterwards, the sinful priest and the master of the house.

Lafcadio Boone waits for Willow Blue by the candle in the chapel. He knows she will come to check, just in case. She was always a smart girl. He asks her to gather everyone and act as her interpreter. His audience is skeptical at first, until he begins to reveal details- uncomfortable, intimate details -that grant him credibility beyond a shadow of a doubt. He tells them all the truth, he owes them that much. Their reactions are mixed, but shock is most prevalent. There is a moment where the room goes quiet.

Redd Rockridge speaks first, "Thank you," he says in his deep, gentle voice. The others join in, with Eleanor last.

This Ellie is not like the one Boone remembers. Not the tired and miserable Bloody Girl. This one is grieving, yes, but she retains her innocence, her love of life, her unborn child.

"Tell her I'm sorry," Lafcadio asks Willow. "It was the only way."

Ellie does not respond. She needs time to mourn.

For a while, things seem dire. Her husband's trickery is exposed and leaves her without any insurance whatsoever. It leaves her without anyone to run the Sexy Brutale. In the end, it is Tequila Belle, with a gentle hand on her shoulder on a cloudy afternoon, the one that saves her life.

Tequila will sing and Redd will play. Reginald and Greyson will perform acts of escapism. Willow will set up an antique shop in the unused room just off the entrance of the casino. Thanos, Trinity and Aurum will move their business to the Brutale. Clay will ensure it all goes smoothly and safely. And Eleanor... she will simply have to learn how to manage a business. She will still look after the gardens and paint in her spare time, but her challenge will be to turn the Sexy Brutale upside down and into a moneymaker again.

It's rough at first. Eleanor was never one for numbers and all the figures in the ledger makes her head spin. She has the more illegal ventures that her late husband favoured shut down, much to her uncle's protest. She forbids them from cooking the books and insists on running a reputable venue. It gets so rough at first that she's forced to sell off her most valuable possessions. And yet, after a few concerts and shows, after rumour goes out that the Sexy Brutale is fashionable again, it slowly begins to turn around. Eleanor goes into labour just as she finishes paying off her debts.

She doesn't name him Lucas or Lafcadio, even though she knows they're both good men. She knows it would be the right thing to honour their memory and their sacrifice, but she wants her son to be better. She doesn't want a man who sacrifices themselves to atone. And she knows both Lucas and Lafcadio would want the same. So she calls him Liam.

The Sexy Brutale lives on, a miniature city of lights, a place of love and warmth, joy and music.

At night, it shines like a crown of stars.

**Author's Note:**

> Okay so I just finished the game and I just had to write something to let the feels out. Hope it was an interesting read.


End file.
